Skating Through The Wasteland
by Shadow of the Forgotten Ones
Summary: The never ending colors of death and decay as far as the eye can see. The little Pipboy Yuri has on his arm casts a low green haze on everything. A noise echoes behind him. A bottle rolling on the rotting wooden floor. He turns, his hand going to the pistol that has become a faithful companion. Thankfully, it's not a Raider or other unsavory inhabitant of the wasteland, instead, it
1. Making Home

**AN:** **This is a birthday fic for Olympic Haruka, my sister, and occasional muse. I hope you enjoy it as much as she did. I will likely be adding bits to this, a collection of the Life of Vault Dweller Yuri.**

* * *

" _Home Sweet Home"_

The outside world still gives Yuuri shivers. The never ending colors of death and decay as far as the eye can see. The little Pipboy he has on his arm casts a low green haze on everything. When his sister had left Vault 101, after their parents had died of something that she swore could have been healed on the outside, they had tried to arrest him. Him, who most other Vault Dwellers called chubby and harmless. This meant that he had to escape. He _had_ to get away because the Overseer wasn't a kind man. He thought execution was a better solution than jail time. Which long story short, so very long, brought him here staring out into the desolate land he was forced to call home.

His parents when they were healthy and unencumbered by their Vault duties running the water purification chamber loved to tell him how _their_ parent's parent's parents had traveled over from Japan to settle in America. They spoke mostly Japanese though they could also speak English. _A way to remember those who are gone._ That is what he was told. It's the only thing he has left to remember them, not counting the few things he had stored in the Vault-Tec storage unit.

A noise echoes behind him. A bottle rolling on the rotting wooden floor. He turns, his hand going to the pistol that has become a faithful companion. Thankfully, it's not a Raider or other unsavory inhabitant of the wasteland, instead, it's Viktor. The white blond male stands there, his rifle on his back. In another life, he could have been an ice skater. He moves with a command of grace and athleticism that is wasted as a scavenger. The man is staring at him with a look that Yuuri wants to claim is love but is too nervous to label as such. Yuuri turns back to the shattered out window, letting out a breath that could be a sigh.

Arms wrap around him, they can't call him chubby anymore, squeezing him to a firm but slim body. Ahead rests on top of his. No words are spoken. Not then. They stand there watching the vast wasteland.

"We will find her," Viktor promises giving him a gentle squeeze. His voice has a thick accent that Yuuri has slowly learned to decipher. It's better than the 'twang' of most of the scavengers he's met. Find _her_ that has been his goal since he left. Find home. But as days turns to weeks turns to months Yuuri doubts he will ever find his sister, will ever find his home.

A soft kiss is pressed to his head, and the arms around his waist pull him away from the window.

"Come, sleep," Viktor murmurs.

"I don't want to," Yuuri whispers back. They don't have to be quiet, not really. They swept the perimeter and the mines that Yuuri has a slight knack for making are set out around the empty house they found. The bedroll they have set out looks as appealing as kissing a Deathclaw. Viktor forces him to lay down, kisses peppering Yuuri's face. The Vault Dweller is almost afraid his companion will leave him, will go stand guard because one can never be too careful. But Viktor sits down next to him allowing Yuuri to scoot over and lay his head on Viktor's lap. Slim, long fingers brush through his hair.

"Don't leave me."

"I won't."

He falls asleep to the sound of Viktor's breathing, the Russian descendant humming occasionally and slim work calloused hands running through his hair.

* * *

 _The humming of the generator greets his ears as he looks around the Vault. The lights are bright and he's sitting on his bed. His sister is sitting on his desk, a sly look on her face._

" _When were you going to tell me?" she asks getting up and walking toward him. He drinks in the sight of her. The swish of her hair, the glide of her legs, the smirk on her face. It's getting so blurry the longer he goes without seeing her. She reaches out and ruffles his hair._

" _Falling in love with Nikiforov and not letting me know. He's the Vault's favorite after all."_

" _S-shut up," he grumbles swiping at her hand. On his walls are posters of Viktor, not in ice skates this time but in proper dancing clothes._

" _Mom wants him to come to dinner."_

 _She walks toward the door. And a sinking feeling settles in the pit of his stomach. He tries to reach out to her before she opens the steel door that transforms from a simple bedroom door to the Vault's door._

* * *

"Mari!" he wakes with a shout, sitting up gasping. Tears are running down his face as the dream warmth of his sister's hand fades away. He's tugged into an embrace, the unique stink of Viktor filling his nose. Close isn't close enough as Yuuri clutches at Viktor trying to melt into the older wastelander. No more sleep is gotten that night.

* * *

The sun beats down on them, neither of them the most awake. After his nightmare, could it even be counted as a nightmare, neither of them had felt comfortable sleeping. So now, because of him, they aren't at their best. Viktor walks with his rifle unholstered but lowered, prepared for anything. Yuuri follows behind, eyes flicking to his Pipboy to avoid running into any hostile forces. They're heading toward Grayditch, Yuuri had wanted to spend some time in the wilds just in case Mari hadn't gone for a settlement. If she was out there she was either dead or far better at hiding than they were at finding.

He's about to ask if they can take a break when something pops up on his Pipboy. It's not hostile but it puts them both on edge. They close in Yuuri ready to cover Viktor should they needed. The blip turns out to be two and Yuuri smiles at the furry looking dogs that are sitting down in front of them. Their fur is matted and mud covered but they are clearly domesticated dogs.

"Poodles," Viktor guess when he gets closer to them. The dogs soak up his attention, "Had owners."

That catches Yuuri's attention and he gets closer to the newcomers. One could almost be mistaken for a puppy, its ears floppy and face sweet looking. Sure enough, deep in the mess that is their fur is a collar. Their ribs are showing and Yuuri can feel them when he runs his hands over them. He looks over at Viktor.

"It would be cruel to leave them…"

"Well… we don't have to worry about running out of food. You have a serious knack for finding… we could see if they will follow us."

Yuuri flushes at the mention of his habit of finding edible food. With the small poodle pup that Yuuri names Vicchan in his arms Yuuri comes to realize that he may never find his old home but he is certainly making his own with Viktor.

" _You can never come home again."_


	2. Dealing With The Devil

**AN: PLEASE READ THIS SO YOU DON'T GET CONFUSED. This chapter is before Yuri and Viktor meet.**

" _In for a penny, in for a pound"_

Viktor pushes his goggles up onto his head. The sun is bearing down on him but thankfully the wind isn't as fierce as it was. He pats himself down trying to rid himself of excess dirt. The dilapidated house isn't much to look at, in fact the roof is half gone and is barely covered by a tarp, but it serves it's purpose. Housing the devil. With one more shake he opens the doors, dodging the wrench that is thrown his way.

"That is no way to greet a friend," Viktor chides dodging yet another thing tossed his way.

"You're not my friend Vitya!"

"Fine, how about a repeat customer?" he asks with a smile at the young face behind the counter. The blond scrunches up his face.

"That _is_ better… I guess."

"You make me feel so loved," Viktor says dramatically placing a hand on his heart.

"Shut up and show me what you have to sell."

Viktor slings off his augmented backpack off his shoulders. It's a simple brown leather bag, indistinguishable from nearly any other bag if not for the careful stitching of micromesh that allowed the bag to expand to hold many items. He's not sure where it came from, other than it certainly wasn't made in that little hovel he found it in, it could be Vault-Tec for all he knows. Yuri waits patiently, if one counts tapping one's foot as patient, while Viktor digs out what he wants to sell. With a deep breath Viktor steels himself for bartering with the tiger devil of _Fetching Felines Exchange Shop_.

"You're trying to drive me out of business ain't ya? Twenty caps for each bullet? Five caps," Yuri says with narrowed eyes.

"Now _you_ are trying to kill me. These were hard to get! Fifteen," counters Viktor.

"Five."

"Thirteen."

"Five."

"Ten."

"Deal. Now I'll take that armor off of you for three," Yuri says with a cheshire grin as he swaps the bullets for caps.

Viktor splutters for a moment.

"You _have_ to be kidding."

"Do I?"

And on it continues. Until everything Viktor wants to sell is gone and he's just barely richer. Especially after he finishes restocking. The door to the back of the shop, where the good things that Yuri saves for the richer customers are kept, opens and a ghoul steps out.

"Yakov!" Viktor calls out cheerfully waving at the ghoul. A saying his mother would mutter when Viktor asked why so many of the townspeople spoke Russian and shunned those who didn't comes to mind as Yakov let's out a string of Russian curses. _Birds of a feather, flock together._ Yakov looks up from the box in his arms. There is a scowl on his square face that Viktor wonders if it was scorched onto it or just his default look.

"Vitya. Finally home or still roaming and making your parents roll over in their graves?"

"Scavenging, not roaming," Viktor corrects shouldering his bag. It's a bit awkward with his rifle holstered but he has gotten used to it.

"Same thing," Yakov tuts severely, placing the box next to Yuri. Both humans wince at the pops that the ghoul's elbows make.

"I wasn't young when I became a ghoul and I'm certainly not any younger. Creaks and cracks are to be expected."

Viktor thinks that 'not any younger' may be an understatement as there are more bits falling off of him than staying on. Which causes a part of him to wonder what the ghoul looked like before Yakov lost his nose and chunks of his skin. The ghoul has been around for as long as Viktor can remember. The grumpy uncle that is always there. His mother said that Yakov was searching for his ex-wife when the bombs fell. That the old ghoul had had a homemade shelter he had wanted to share with her. Romantic his mother had sighed. Idiotic his father had sniffed. Viktor wasn't sure what he thought about that other than Yakov used the time he had as a ghoul to become a damn fine teacher. All one had to do to see that is look at Yuri! Yakov had taught Yuri everything he knew about shop keeping and let the young blond apprentice in the shop, then called _The Exchange_ , and now everyone walks with a lighter purse.

"If you insist on going out there see if you can find medical supplies. Mila is running low again," Yakov says going back to what he calls his office. Viktor gives the ghoul's back a salute and starts backing up toward the door.

"Wait" Yuri calls out with a light blush, "Do you have any information on Altin?"

"No but I'll tell you if I hear anything," Viktor promises the now crestfallen blonde. Yuri pulls himself together muttering something under his breath that Viktor doesn't catch.

"Until next time," he says with a flourish leaving the store. He's been in one place too long. He needs to move. Gypsy feet some had called it, a wanders heart others said. It's a blessing and a curse both to Viktor. But there isn't anything, anyone, to keep him in this town now that his parents are dead. And there is a wide world out that needs explored and scavenged. The travel books in his bag burn and he starts toward the clinic before changing directions and heading toward the bar instead.

Anya is standing behind the counter, her current beau sits across from her. _The Stilted Princess_ is rather empty for the time of day that it is. It's a miracle that Georgi isn't here in a corner staring at Anya with love in his eyes.

"The prodigal son returns!" Anya calls out jovial enough despite the gleam in her eyes. The first drink is on the house but he's here for food at a more reasonable price and gossip that can lead to profit, not drinks. She waits for him to take a drink before leaning in and whispering:

"There's rumors going around that a couple of Vault Dwellers are out and about. Scurrying around like radroaches. You never know what they are carrying. Might even have a water purifier chip."

" _Nothing ventured, nothing gained."_


End file.
